


All the times you were there for Fred, and the one time he wasn't

by AmyNoodles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fred Weasley Dies, FredxReader, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sad, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:36:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5947537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyNoodles/pseuds/AmyNoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've been there for Fred through everything. </p><p>But one time he wasn't there for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the times you were there for Fred, and the one time he wasn't

_Trade our places in the night_   
_We're running barefoot, you and I_   
_Dead lovers salivate_   
_Broken hearts tessellate tonight_   
  


_-Tokyo Police Club, Tessellate_

 

You had always been there for Fred. From the moment he slid into the seat next to you on your first year to Hogwarts, and you continually confused him for his brother the entire train and boat ride, from when you timidly confessed your love for each other in your third year, in the Gryffindor common room, in the dead of night.

 

That’s how it worked, the two of you. He’d go crashing and bashing through Hogwarts, a wild ginger mess of childish fury, alongside his brother, and you’d kiss him at night as you bandaged him up and listened to his ecstasy.

 

In first year, you were the one keeping watch as Fred and George snuck into Filch’s office to steal the wonderful map. You were the one hissing at them to hurry up, and furiously giggling afterwards as you celebrated your achievement with the twins.

* * *

 

Second year you found yourself the keeper of the Quidditch team, competing alongside your best friend and crush; the Beaters. 

* * *

 

Third year, Harry joined the school, and you felt a motherly instinct to look over him. Much like the brotherly love Fred and George had for Ron, they grew to feel the same for Harry, to the point of pranking him. 

 

Third year, you spend the Christmas at Hogwarts with the Weasley’s and Harry. To your utter bewilderment, Mrs Weasley had knitted you your own sweater with your initial on the front of it. Despite it’s over-bearing warmth and horrid itchiness, you refused to take it off. It was official; you were one of the family now. 

 

That night, way into the early hours of boxing day, you lay in front of the dying fire with Fred, butterbeers in hand. That’s when he looked up and told you he knew he loved you from the moment he lay eyes on you. And all you could reply with, in between startled blinks of disbelief, was ‘Me too’.

* * *

 

In fourth year, you comforted Fred through the emotional months at Hogwarts. You were the first, after George of course, to learn of Ginny’s nauseating kidnapping by Riddle. You sat in silence, holding Fred’s hand into the hours of the night, humming to him, until everything was okay again. 

* * *

 

The summer of fifth year, you spend every day in hiding with the twins, inventing their tricks, gags and pranks. You helped plan a potential future business sketch for their Weasley joke shop. And one night, when Fred revealed his love potion, you kissed him slowly and reminded him that you’d be the only one _not_ buying it; you didn’t need it, after all. You were already in love.

* * *

 

In sixth year, you broke up for a short period of time, to the point where Fred attended the Yule Ball with another girl. You went with George, as friends, and as a cruel stab at revenge on Fred. But as the night drew on, you ended up sitting on the hillside outside Hagrid’s, looking into the night sky, crying onto your stunning gown. That night, George had sat next to you, and let you cry for a while, before said, ‘He might be more handsome than me, but he’s a bloody git.’ 

 

You had laughed, then, and ran your arm under you nose. You asked George what you’d done wrong, and he said nothing, hugged you, and left. 

 

You sat for another twenty minutes. You stood, ready to go to bed. You turned, and Fred was standing there, sheepish and, for once, quiet. Then he whispered, ‘I’ve been a fool,’ before he stepped closer and pulled you into a deep, loving kiss. 

* * *

 

In your final year, you rode with Fred and George into the OWL exam and chased Umbridge out the school. You were an honorary DA member. You held Fred’s hand as you visited his poorly, attacked father at St. Mungos. You were there for him, like you always were. 

* * *

 

You were a shop assistant at the twins joke shop. A roaring success that you were proud to be a part off. As you watched your boyfriend in his element, doing what he was born to do, you’d never been more in love with him. 

 

But there was one time Fred wasn’t there for you. 

 

As you stormed into the dining hall of Hogwarts, on the night of the devastating war, you didn’t care. You didn’t care who else was dead, or injured. You didn’t care who has lost who. 

 

You didn’t hear anything. Everything was muffled, as if you’d just dunked your head under water. Tears blocked your vision, your head pounded with a sudden crippling pain. 

 

And when you saw that body, you wished for one split second that it was George instead. 

 

But you knew it wasn’t. You’d always been able to tell them apart, even before George was cursed. 

 

It was the little shy looks that Fred stole, the way his smile curled up ever so slightly more, the way his eyes were ever so slightly more azure, and his hair ever so slightly more untamed. It was the way his chin was slightly more dimpled, his hands slightly more sweaty, and his lips slightly thinner. 

 

These were the many ways Fred was different to George. 

  
These were the many ways that confirmed that it was his body lying on the floor of Hogwarts dining hall, amongst the other deceased. 

The Weasley’s had allowed you your moment of grief. You had stood, stunned, mouth slightly agape as you preyed you’d gone delirious. 

 

Mr Weasley has placed his hand on your shoulder, and in that moment, everything struck you. 

 

You’d screamed. Shrieked. Wailed. You collapsed onto the floor, and placed your hands on the side of his face, tears pouring down onto him, begging him to wake up. 

 

When someone quietly whispered ‘He’s gone, (Y/N)’ you dove your face onto his chest and sobbed hysterically. You couldn’t be moved. You lay there for hours, clutching onto him, soaking in his very being. His smell, the touch of his skin, his face, until you could never forget what it was like to have him next to you.

 

You remembered all the times you’d been there for Fred. And how, this time, he wasn’t there for you.


End file.
